Carlisle
by WynterSnow
Summary: On a dark and stormy afternoon, Carlisle tells Bella the story of his turning. We all know the story from the book. I've just fleshed it out a bit more.
1. Chapter 1

On a dark and stormy afternoon, Carlisle tells Bella and Renesmee the story of his turning. We all know the story from the books. I've just fleshed it out a bit more.

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One

THE STORM

The afternoon sky was almost as dark as night. Angry black clouds, heavy with moisture, roiled and tumbled across the heavens, illuminated by brilliant flashes of lightning as the long jagged fingers streaked toward the earth. Thunder rumbled and crashed ominously.

The forest that surrounded the Cullen residence stood like dark, silent sentinels, waiting miserably for the rapidly approaching thunderstorm to arrive. The densely populated trees were bleak with heavy shadows beneath the high canopy. There seemed to be a quiet anticipation in the air to see which, if any, of the taller trees would fall victim to the lightning strikes.

Bella stood motionless at the tall glass wall of the main house, gazing out at the approaching thunderstorm. The multilevel house offered a spectacular view of the heavily wooded mountains and a broad expanse of sky overhead, and her superior eyesight was not hindered at all by the stormy atmosphere. She could almost feel the tension emitting from the animals in the woods, seeking cover to wait out the weather.

The storm would have no effect on Bella, but she could not help but feel some concern for her very human father, the chief of police, who would be leaving the station soon. Knowing him, he would stop at the diner for supper before continuing home, putting him out in the storm at least twice before continuing home to the two story house in which Bella had lived with him prior to her marriage. She would give him a call later in the evening, just to be sure he had made it home safely.

Since her marriage to Edward, she and her husband and their daughter divided their time between the Cullens' large home and a smaller house as short distance away, a wedding gift from the family that provided the couple with the privacy they sought. Much of their time, however, was spent at the main residence in the company of the rest of the family. She loved the huge house with its high glass walls that provided unobstructed views of the forest almost as much as she loved the family that had accepted and welcomed her as one of them, even before Edward had made that official.

As if reading her thoughts, a guffaw of laughter erupted behind her, and she turned toward the sound to face the three young men who sat at a square table, intent on the game that was being played on it.

Facing each other across the table, Emmett and Jasper were occupied in some sort of military board game where the players engaged in make-believe war, their "armies" in the form of various playing pieces that faced their enemy combatants across the board. Edward, because of his mind reading abilities, had trouble finding playing partners, but he was welcome to watch, so he sat at the table observing the moves, sometimes nodding in approval, and sometimes shaking his head in objection, which seemed to frustrate Emmett.

Bella had no real interest in the game, but out of curiosity, she moved closer to have a look, positioning herself beside Edward, who automatically placed his arm around her waist and drew her nearer. She was going to ask who was winning, since both Emmett and Jasper seemed pretty evenly matched, judging by the pieces remaining on the board, but closer examination revealed that Jasper, the ex-Civil War major, had a slight advantage. He was the careful strategist, consciously plotting his army's progress across the board, while Emmett made spontaneous moves that to a casual observer might have seemed random, but Bella knew that his moves were more calculated than they appeared. However, against his brother's careful line of attack, it seemed he would be forced into retreat. Jasper's advantage became even clearer when he calmly took down one of Emmett's colonels.

Sudden tension permeated the air in the room, and everyone became aware that Jasper was watching his brother very carefully, ready to react if Emmett became overly stressed and did something rash – like break the table.

Emmett felt the eyes that were on him, and shrugged. "What?"

"It just seemed for a moment like you were taking the game a bit too seriously," Jasper replied, placidly.

Emmett folded his arms across the table top and stared at the board, plotting his options. "Am not," he muttered, so much a pouty little boy that Bella could not help but laugh.

"Are too," Edward told him with a grin and a playful shove. "That's why you're planning to annihilate that poor captain."

Emmett shoved him back with a sheepish grin. "Okay, okay, maybe I am. A little. Just don't tell him how I'm planning to do it."

Jasper lifted an eyebrow, amused.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Edward responded, still smiling. "I can't wait to see this."

Bella squeezed Edward's shoulder affectionately. "You may have to act as referee," she told him with a smile. "I'm going to check on Renesmee."

He nodded in agreement, and she made her way to Esme's home office, where she and Alice were bent over the computer monitor, scrutinizing some new decorating ideas. It looked to Bella like they were trying to decide on a particular fabric for a new sofa. But Renesmee, who had been perched on Esme's lap a short time earlier, was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Nessie?"

Esme and Alice looked up from the computer.

"Rosalie took her to the garage," Esme replied. "I don't think home improvement and fashion hold any interest for her yet. She decided she'd rather watch Rosalie tune up her car."

"At least we have plenty of time to work on that," Alice added. "We'll bring her around, in time."

Bella walked to the large garage where the family sheltered their expensive vehicles. The hood of Rosalie's car was up, and the beautiful blonde was bent over the engine of her car making some adjustments, but a quick glance around revealed that once again, Nessie was no where in sight.

"Where's Nessie?"

"She discovered she's not particularly interested in auto mechanics," Rosalie replied without pulling her head from under the hood. "She's with Carlisle."

"And where is Carlisle?"

"Try the library."

Bella closed the door to the garage, and made her way toward the library. She loved everything about the wonderful house, but this room, with its floor to ceiling book shelves filled with books ranging from historical classics to modern novels, was a particular favorite. Carlisle had collected an incredible variety of books during his long life

She paused just outside the room, smiling at the scene before her. Renesmee was sitting on a throw pillow on the floor at Carlisle's knee, listening while the family's patriarch read aloud the story of the _Three Little Pigs_. In spite of her advanced intellect and extraordinary abilities, the bottom line was that Renesmee was a little girl with the same interests as other little girls, and that included fairy tales and nursery rhymes.

"The third little pig had learned his lesson well, and he lived happily ever after," Carlisle said, completing the story.

Nessie's face puckered in a puzzled frown, concentrating intently. "How come all these stories have a big bad wolf?" she inquired. "Jacob's not a bad wolf."

Carlisle laughed. "No, my little one, you are quite right. Jacob is a good wolf, and so are his friends. These are just silly old stories, and the writers didn't know any better."

"And they certainly didn't know Jacob," Bella finished.

He looked up and smiled in greeting. "Bella."

"Don't let me disturb you," she said, apologetically.

"We were just reading some stories about the Three Pigs and Goldilocks, but I'm afraid Nessie disapproves."

"That's okay, Grandpa," the child said, patting him affectionately on the knee. "They were good stories."

The scene was so pleasant and so family oriented that Bella found herself asking, "You're so good with kids. Did you have any children in your other life?"

He gave a wistful sigh. "No. At the time of my turning, I had not yet found the woman I wanted to marry."

Bella started to point out that marriage was not necessary, but he must have seen it in her eyes, for he smiled his charming smile.

"Different era, Bella. Back then, honor and commitment were very important, and indiscretions stuck to your back like Velcro. Proper young men and women, especially the sons of daughters of ministers, did not want to be branded with that stigma." He closed the book, his expression thoughtful. "The French were much more open in that area, but where I lived, if indiscretions were committed, they were kept quiet. Pregnant girls were quickly ushered out of town for an "extended stay with relatives'. My father, if you must know, kept me far too busy to do much in the way of courting."

"Courting," Bella repeated with a smile. "It sounds so old fashioned."

With another smile, he rose from the chair to return the book to the shelf, then paused to place a log on the fireplace, not because he needed the warmth, but because he liked the cozy atmosphere it gave the room.

Bella tucked one foot under herself as she sank onto one end of the love seat, and a moment later Nessie climbed into her lap and snuggled against her. Cuddling her daughter, she looked into her father-in-law's ancient eyes as he sat back down on the chair across from her, eyes that had seen so much history. It did not matter that he was not Edward's natural father; he was a parent in every way that mattered. He had given Edward a new life, when he had been dying in a hospital nearly 100 years earlier, and had given him the freedom of choice in how he would live that new life, welcoming him back into the fold when he was ready to commit to the lifestyle that the family lived.

"Thank you for keeping Nessie entertained."

"It was my pleasure," he replied. "I feel like I should be thanking you, though. You've given this family a gift we never thought we'd have – a child in the house. Somehow, having her here makes the family seem even more complete. Even Rosalie seems to have found a new joy in life. She's not nearly so disagreeable as before."

"You've given me more than you can ever imagine," she told him. "If it hadn't been for you, Edward and I would have missed each other by nearly a hundred years. He would have died at the age of seventeen of the influenza, and we would not have had Renesmee. I can't imagine my life without either of them."

She felt Nessie's head shift against her as the child tilted her head to look up at her. Her arms tightened around the child in a reassuring hug.

Carlisle's gaze fell upon the child, who now turned her cherub face to him, watching and listening with a comprehension far above that which would have been possible for other children her age.

Outside the window, they heard a harsh gust of wind strike the side of the house as the storm arrived, and torrential rain pelted the window panes. The house shuddered as if from an impact, and the lights flickered then went out. It did not matter, for everyone in the house could see well in the dark. In the library, however, the fire in the hearth continued to dance cheerfully, unaffected by the storm.

"Interesting, isn't it?" he spoke at last. "How one life can touch so many others."

"You life has touched more than anyone else's, human or otherwise," Bella said, softly.

His smile was typically modest. "Well, I'm not so sure about that."

"I am," Bella contradicted. "Think of all the people who are alive today because you used your special abilities to make a diagnosis when no one else could, when modern technology could not."

"I do think about that from time to time," he admitted. "It has made my existence seem more worthwhile. I'm unable to save them all, but it is comforting to know that there are others that I've been able to diagnose when medical technology has been insufficient."

His body and appearance frozen in time at the age of 23, Carlisle had witnessed the French Revolution, the American Revolution, the War Between the States, two world wars, the invention of so many wondrous marvels of the world, and so many more historical events. He had seen them first hand, with his own golden eyes.

"How did it happen?" she asked, curiously. "How did you become a vampire?"

He smiled, tolerantly. "Surely Edward must have told you our history."

"Yes, but it isn't the same as hearing it first hand. I know it was sometime in the 1660's, but still being a relative newborn, it's a little hard to conceive of someone so ancient."

He laughed, amicably. "Ancient?"

If blood had still flowed in her veins, she would have blushed, so instead she grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, that didn't sound quite like I had intended. It was meant as a compliment to how much you've seen and learned over the centuries."

Still smiling, he said, "Well, I'm over 360 years old, so I can see how that would seem ancient to one so young."

"I just think, sometimes, about the history you've seen in your lifetime, and I can't help but feel a bit awed."

"I wasn't exactly thinking about all that when I was first turned. I wanted nothing more than to end my existence, fearful of what I was and what I might do to others."

"Tell me about it. Please," she asked. "I really want to hear it."

He could see in her face that she did. Even Renesmee was watching, eager for a new story, so he nodded his agreement, "All right."

He took his seat again, his eyes gazing into the flames of the hearth as he decided where to begin his story.

"I remember that night as clearly as if it was yesterday. . . . "


	2. Chapter 2

My sincere thanks to those who reviewed.

Nothing in the Twilight world belongs to me. I'm only borrowing them.

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Two

BITTEN

I remember that night as clearly as if it were yesterday. There had been a steady mist falling most of the day, and the night that followed was starless and black with lingering clouds, the perfect environment for a vampire hunt.

It was the dawn of an era known to history as "the Age of Enlightenment", when mankind sought rationality in their intellect, leading the world toward progress and away from superstition. Others call those early years of that era "the Age of Reason", although in many ways I'm uncertain that either truly applied. There were still many superstitions, and many unjust acts and irrational judgments were committed without thoughtful deliberation or truth-seeking. The Salem Witch Trials, for example, occurred well into this era of so-call enlightenment, and it's doubtful that any of the women killed were actually witches. But I digress . . .

My father, as you know, was an Anglican minister in London with a faithful congregation of like-minded men. He preached not only the Gospel, but also the condemnation of the evil creatures that roamed the country, showing themselves only at night. For almost as long as I could remember, he had been leading night raids on suspected covens of vampires and witches. He was adamant in his convictions, but I often wondered how many innocent lives had fallen victim to those raids.

Eventually, age and ill health brought about a cessation of his participation in these raids, but not to the raids themselves, for there were many men still willing to carry out what they believed was a just cause. It was to me that he turned for leadership in continuing the practice.

It was with less enthusiasm and far greater caution that I took up the mantle of vampire slayer, and I dare say I was a disappointment to my father in my lack of resolve and apparent inability to locate an destroy the creatures he so despised. My weakness, he said, was my boundless compassion for others, and that compassion translated into caution, but I was determined that I would not take the life of those who were unjustly accused.

On that particular night, we met at my father's church in preparation for the hunt. To light our way, we carried torches in one hand and the tools of the trade in the other, including pitchforks and axes to disable and dismember. There were a dozen of us in all, all of them were determined to rid the world of the terrible scourge of vampirism and approached our task with what some called a commendable zeal, and what I called reckless enthusiasm.

How very foolish we were, perhaps even arrogant, to think ourselves capable of going against such creatures. We had no idea, no idea at all, just how truly unique and powerful they were, or how useless our tools were against them. The _real _ones, that is.

It goes without saying that my heart was not in the task which my father had placed in my hands. My greatest fear was that his detection methods were inferior, and those he had tracked down and slaughtered were, in fact, human. I know now that that was the case, and it would have grieved him terribly to know this, for he truly believed his chosen path was the right one for humanity. Had he gone up against a real vampire, the end result of the hunts would have been very different, as I was to discover that night.

But I was clever and my patience and caution paid off. On that dark night in the mid-sixteen-sixties, I and my fellow hunters routed out a vampire that had been living the dank, dark sewers beneath the streets of London. Armed with our ineffective tools, we charged toward him. I was 23 years old, young and agile, and I sprinted ahead of the others, down the alley where fate would transform my life forever.

The vampire we had found was ancient, perhaps weak from hunger. I believe he must have known of the vampire hunters who roamed the streets looking for his kind, and had chosen to remain hidden until driven by hunger from his hiding place to feed.

To my great surprise, instead of fleeing as I had expected, he turned and attacked, and being the unlucky one in the lead, it I who reached him first. Even as he grasped me in an impossibly strong grip, I was struck by his remarkable physical beauty, and I stared into that ancient face, a face I will never forget. I would later understand that this anomaly, this disarming beauty, was unique among vampires, but in that moment, I was paralyzed with a sense of wonder and amazement.

Until that very instant when he turned on me and I saw those ebony eyes boring into my very soul, there had been lingering doubt in my belief of these creatures. In my natural caution and compassion, I had come to believe that my father was wrong, that vampires did not truly exist. In a matter of seconds, I had been shown the truth in the most terrifying way possible.

I felt his teeth sink into the flesh of my throat, tearing through the skin and drawing out the life-giving blood in great gulps, but he was unable to drain my body, for the other hunters were fast approaching, screaming and shouting in their excitement and fury. As they neared, he released me and seized one of the others. There were several moments of terrible confusion, and when the creature finally fled into the night, he was dragging one of my comrades with him. Two others were lying dead on the street, and I was bleeding from the wound in my throat.

The burning, searing pain from the venom was excruciating, sending me to my knees as the others rushed past me, their attention focused upon that creature of the night as it ran with unbelievable speed into the darkness. I would wonder later what they would tell my poor aging father, but at the moment, I could think of nothing but the pain. It filled me with white-hot agony, radiating outward from the location of the bite until it consumed me completely, and I pressed my fist hard against my mouth to keep from screaming.

I knew little of vampires and how they became what they were. Oh, I was familiar with the legends, but I was soon to realize that legends, though based on fact, were seldom 100% accurate. I did not know if those who lay dead nearby would become vampires, or if it was me, the one who lived, who would suffer that fate. I was uncertain precisely what this bite would mean to me, but I did know one thing: something terrible was happening inside me.

Through the haze of my agony, my mind contemplated what had just happened. The vampire hunters had disappeared down the alley to the street beyond, still chasing the ancient creature who had carried off his victim, but I knew they would be back to deal with the bodies and then deal with me, and I realized my life was in immediate danger, not only from the bite but from my fellow hunters and possibly even from the bodies lying nearby, who might at any moment resurrect in the form of vampires!

As I stated before, we were woefully ignorant of true vampires, and I was uncertain at that moment if the conditions of my situation were the components necessary to turn me into one of those vile, blood thirsty killers that roamed the darkened streets, or if I had merely been poisoned by the venom that had been released into my bloodstream by his teeth. I had been heretofore unaware that vampires' teeth carried venom, but I clung to a ray of hope that perhaps I had not been delivered a fatal dose. Perhaps my strong young body would be able to fight off the effects of the venom if given the time. But time was something I might not have if the others found me like that. They had witnessed the attack on me, and in my present condition, I knew I would be regarded with fear and suspicion.

In spite of the terrible pain, I turned my pain-glazed eyes to view my surroundings. I was on the cobblestone path at the head of the alley between the dark buildings, and I knew I must get out of there before the others returned, but I quickly realized that I was unable to stand. The pain continued to spread through my body, far worse than any pain I could have ever imagined, and I collapsed onto the cobblestones. Fighting the urge to scream, I began to drag myself out of the alley, hoping I might find a hiding place. The stones must have skinned and bruised my body as I half crawled, half dragged myself along the hard surface, but that pain was insignificant compared to the molten venom that was coursing through my veins.

Once out of the alley, I paused to rest, gasping for breath. My heart thudded loudly in my chest, as if struggling to fight off the effects of the poison in my system. With every breath, with every inch I crawled, the pain only worsened. Tears of agony burned in my eyes, and I briefly shut them tight against the pain, but nothing could ease my suffering. I wanted to scream in my agony, but I did not dare.

Lifting my head again, looking at the world through eyes that were blurred from the intensity of the pain, I noticed the slanted door of a cellar lying against a nearby rise of ground.

Instantly, I started toward it, hoping for a place of refuge until I could make some sense of what had happened to me. Slowly, determinedly, I dragged myself inch by inch, foot by foot, toward that cellar, my place of refuge until I could determine whether I would live or die.

It is impossible to determine how long it took me to reach the cellar door. It was not distant to the alley, but my progress was painfully slow, and I marvel even today that I reached it without discovery. Fear was a powerful driving force, and I knew the others would not be as cautious as I would have been to someone else in my current position.

Behind me, down the long alley from which I had just emerged, I heard the others returning, and I knew from the panic in their voices that they were examining the bodies of the dead, making plans for their disposal to prevent them from being cursed to the same fate as their attacker.

But I was as-yet unconvinced that it was the existence that awaited me, and I was determined that my life would not be terminated prematurely.

When I reached the cellar door, I rose up and seized the large door ring in my hands, but it took every ounce of strength and determination I could muster to tug it open wide enough to slip through it.

I knew there would be steps leading down, but I was unable to easily manage them, and as the heavy wooden door slammed above me, I felt the sharp edge of each wooden step slam into my back, my shoulders, and my hips as I tumbled down the stairs into the inky blackness below.

The fall must surely have injured me, but I was already in so much pain that I did not notice whether I might have broken or bruised anything. I lay there at the bottom of the steps for some time, my cheek pressed against the cool earthen floor, and all the while my blood seemed to be on fire and my head pounded in rhythm to the panicked throbbing of my heart.

The air around me was chilled, and I knew from the odors that this was a storage cellar, a cool environment for storing and preserving vegetables and other perishables. In those days before grocery stores and refrigeration, we relied on our naturally cool basements and cellars to extend the freshness of the food we raised in our pastures and grew in our gardens. In spite of the relentless pain that kept me pinned to the floor, I could smell the onions that I knew were hanging from the ceiling, their papery tops braided together, and the earthy scent of the soil that clung to the root crops.

I could not see my hand in front of my face in the darkness, but as I felt my way along the floor, I knew there would be other vegetables and herbs stored there. My groping, exploring hands found carrots and parsnips, beans and sage, and finally near the far wall, an enormous pile of potatoes, and it seemed sensible that I should hide among them until this process, whatever it was, was complete.

The potatoes nearest the far wall were the oldest, the fresh having been dumped atop and in front of the rotting, which was odd in itself in that day an age, when such careless waste was rare, even foolish. The old were typically either consumed or removed prior to storing the most recent harvest, for rotting vegetables had a contagious effect on the fresh. From the time I was a child, I had helped tend my father's garden, so my hands could easily feel the difference of quality, the wrinkled loose skins of the old a stark contrast to the firm smooth skins of the fresh.

"Willful waste makes woeful want" was an old proverb favored by my father, but the waste of the cellar's owner would be advantageous to me, for it provided a good hiding place. I knew that those who came to the cellar to replenish their kitchen would choose the fresher potatoes at the front of the pile, so I crawled against the wall and dug my way to the bottom of the mound, allowing the rotting potatoes to cover my body, concealing myself from anyone who might venture into the cellar.

My decision proved prudent almost immediately, for I soon heard my comrades calling my name outside the cellar, and I knew they were searching for me. Their voices were muffled, but my hearing seemed unnaturally strong, even deep beneath the ground. I could hear the fear and concern in their voices, and perhaps even a trace of regret at what they knew would happen if they found me, so I remained silent, shivering and writhing in excruciating agony beneath the pile of rotting potatoes.

They called my name as they searched the alley and the nearby streets, and finally I heard the cellar door pulled open, and I saw the glow of light as one of them stepped inside with a lantern. I heard the steps creak beneath his weight as he moved halfway down, where he stopped, and I knew his eyes were searching for me in the dim light.

"Carlisle?" he called, hopefully. "Are you down here, lad?"

I pressed my teeth into my knuckles, my eyes shut tight against my agony, and I willed myself to remain silent.

He waited briefly for an answer that did not come, then he went back up and I heard the door close once again, leaving me alone in the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Three

VAMPIRE

I suffered terribly during the three days that followed. At this point, I was certain that I was dying, for surely no one could endure such agony and live, and when I felt my human heart contract for the last time, I waited for death to claim me.

Instead of death, I found an awareness I had never expected. The pain was gone, and as I lay there in the darkness, I heard the pattering feet of a mouse scurrying across a beam high above me. Curiously, I pushed my head out of the pile of potatoes to look up, and to my astonishment I could see the tiny creature perched on the narrow beam. It froze briefly, its tiny nose twitching (I could even see it's whiskers!), and it must have sensed danger in my presence, for it squeaked in alarm and scurried away while I looked around in astonished wonder.

It was still pitch dark in the cellar, yet I could see it almost as well as if it had been daylight. In the other objects in the cellar, I saw contours and definition that I could never have imagined. I could see the braids of onions and garlic hanging from the beams, the brilliant green color of the beans that were stored in baskets, and even the individual wood grain in the steps.

I understood then what I had become, and I now had a full grasp of how vampires propagated. Each and every one of them had suffered as I had, and I felt pity for them.

It is difficult to express how I felt at that moment. As a vampire, I had expected that I would have been a mindless fiend, incapable of understanding right from wrong, but it seemed I had retained all of my conscious thoughts, my feelings, and my love and compassion for others. Already, I knew that I could not, would not, sustain my life by draining the life from humans, and I found myself wishing that I had simply allowed my comrades to find me, for death was preferable to the existence that lay before me.

But what should I do about it? I could not face my father as the monster I had become, so I decided that I must find a way to end it on my own.

I could see the thin sliver of light beneath the door at ground level, and I knew it was daytime, so I began to form a plan in my mind. The vampire legends were vast, complicated, and varied. We had studied as many resources as we could find in our preparations, from literature and from those claiming to encountered them personally, and a few of them stated that the sun was fatal to vampires, so I decided that, if true, that was how I would end my existence. I would merely walk out into the sun and allow the burning rays to turn me to ash. But it would have to wait, for I could not terrify the innocent people of London who might inadvertently witness my suicide. I would wait until dark, then slip unnoticed out of the city, and then the next day, when the sun came up, I would take my suicidal walk into the sunlight out on the countryside, where no one would see.

You must understand that my decision was not an easy one. To believers, such as I, suicide is a mortal sin, but I reasoned that I was no longer mortal, and my death was for the good of others, so I hoped perhaps I might be redeemed, that my sacrifice would be looked upon with favor rather than scorn.

With my fate decided, I settled down to wait, burying myself once again beneath the potatoes.

Hours passed, and for the first time since my comrades had given up on their search for me, the door opened and was folded back, allowing a large block of sunlight to fall into the cellar.

I felt a twinge of concern that the sunlight might reach the place where I was hiding; I did not want to die there in the city, and certainly not in the presence of someone who might be frightened by my demise, but I needn't have worried. The sunlight stopped well short of my hiding place.

I could smell the child before she placed her foot on the uppermost step, that sweet aroma of human blood, and I felt my body, my hunger, react to it, demanding satisfaction. Without moving, I peered through a narrow spaces between the potatoes, watching as she carefully walked down the stairs carrying a basket in her small hands.

She was a beautiful child, with auburn curls that bounced merrily with each step. I could hear the beating of her little heart, so unaware that a creature was lying nearby with the power to quickly and efficiently silence that heart. I am ashamed to admit how terribly I wanted that child's blood, but my will-power was strong, and I somehow managed to resist.

Worried that she might hear my breathing in the silence, and even more worried that her scent would prove too much for me to resist, I held my breath as her small hands began selecting the fresh potatoes and dropped her choices in the basket.

I discovered then that breathing was not necessary to a vampire; my lungs no longer processed oxygen in order to survive. It was easier to tolerate her presence when I was unable to smell her sweet scent, and I felt disgust at the mere thought of how tempting her nearness was. She never knew how close she came to losing her life that day, never knew that there was a newly turned vampire lying only a few feet from where she stood, watching her every movement.

I was quite unprepared for the intensity of the urges that I was experiencing, urges that disgusted me, and I struggled with every ounce of the self control I had carried over with me to my new self. I was determined that I would not harm this child!

She dallied in the cellar, apparently enjoying what, for her, was a brief freedom from the kitchen chores, and she hummed softly to herself as she filled her basket. I listened to her sweet voice, yet at the same time it seemed inconceivable that someone could be happy on that day, the day that I had become a monster.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally started back up the stairs, and I soon smelled the aromas of her family's evening meal, odors which no longer held any appeal to me.

Even after night fell, I lingered in the cellar, not to delay the inevitable, but wait for the family to retire, and wait until I was certain that the streets were deserted, before I emerged. I did not want to be tempted.

Finally, I judged that it was safe to leave my hiding place, so I emerged from the cellar to view the world with my new senses, amazed and intrigued that all of my senses were far greater than they had been in my human life.

I did not tarry, but hurried through the streets and back alleys of London, keeping to the deep shadows. There was a dense gray fog lying on the cobbled streets, and that helped to conceal me.

As I walked along the cobbled streets, the scent of humans was everywhere, intoxicating in its intensity, and I was surprised that I could tell the difference among them. Like a connoisseur can distinguish one fine wine from another, I was able to separate the adults from the children, the men from the women. As a modern physician, I now know that it is the difference in hormones that separates them, but back then it was a startling revelation to be so perceptive.

The fog that had settled over the city seemed to hold the aromas close, like a sponge, and I felt the moisture in my mouth; venom, I realized with disgust, flowing like saliva,.

As I came around a corner, I literally bumped into a woman. The strong scent of humans left by passing men and women throughout the day must have disoriented me, or I should have caught her scent in time to alter my course. Instead, I found myself dangerously close to her.

She laughed in a course way, and by her manner of dress I knew that she was a prostitute looking for a customer, but as she took a step back, holding her lantern up to my face, I heard her sharp intake of air.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" she asked.

Of course I had not yet seen my reflection and could not imagine what she had seen in my eyes, but I knew it must be something very bad, judging from her alarmed expression. I did not answer her, for I was holding my breath again in an attempt to fight off that almost overpowering desire to feed. Besides, what could I say? What explanation could I give when I had no idea what was wrong?

I stepped around her and continued on my way, but after I had gone a block or so, I paused to look over my shoulder. She was still standing there in the swirling fog, which was too dense for her to see me in return, but my greatly improved eyesight could see her gray shadow standing there, and I could not only sense the fear coming off her, I could smell it as well.

I quickened my pace, eager to be away from there, but I did not run. I was a newborn vampire, still unaware of the many powers and advanced reflexes that I possessed, so I walked at a quickened human pace, unaware of how much ground I was capable of covering in the blink of an eye.

Even back then, London was a large city, and I walked quite aimlessly for a time until I finally came to the Thames River. I paused there to gaze out across the water, contemplating myself and making decisions on where I would go. The city was sleeping, and in those days there were no electric or gas street lights to block the natural light, only a torch or lantern here and there, so the moon and stars were glistening brilliantly on the shimmering water, and I observed it, absorbing its incredible beauty.

It was then that I heard a sound behind me, the quiet whisper of a cloak, the soft tap of a shoe on cobblestone, and I turned to see a dark figure approaching. When he saw that I had heard, he stopped, standing some thirty feet from me, like a spectral image in the softly swirling fog.

Instantly, my heightened senses told me that he was not human. He was like me. Another vampire, but unlike the poor fiend that had turned me, this one stood tall, even proud in his erect posture. I also knew that he was hunting.

We stood and regarded each other in the darkness and fog for some time, then I saw him smile, his black eyes crinkling in amusement, apparently realizing that I was a newborn, for my confusion must have been evident on my face. After a few moments, he lifted his hand in acknowledgement of me. Had I not been so new to this mystical world into which I had just been thrust, I might have had the presence of mind to question him, to seek answers to the many questions, but I did not think of it until much later. He dropped his hand, then turned and disappeared into the night.

It occurred to me then that there were many other such creatures, and I found myself wondering about the occasional unsolved murder or the disappearances that sometimes occurred, especially in largely populated areas. Some were investigated, others were not. Sometimes prostitutes vanished without a trace, along with street waifs and . . . Well, today, we might call them "mentally challenged", but back then they were called the "insane". No one tended to care or notice if they vanished from their asylum, and I knew at once that these were the people who were being preyed upon by the vampires.

Totally repulsed, I crossed the bridge and headed south, walking through the night until I was well into the countryside.

I was not tired when I finally stopped beneath a large oak tree and sat down against its massive trunk facing the eastern sky. It was morning twilight. Soon I would see the sun rising over the horizon, the instrument which I hoped would end my existence.

Mentally, I prepared myself for what would happen, and I turned over in my mind everything I had heard about vampires and their vulnerabilities. And I prayed for forgiveness of what I had become and what I was about to do.

As the sun peeked over the horizon, I watched it with my new improved eyes. The colors were vivid, many beautiful shades of pink, yellow, orange, and deep blues and violets in hues that my human eyes had never been able to fully comprehend. I was certain it would be my last sunrise, and it was a spectacular display.

Finally, as the rays of the sun crept across the grassy field toward the tree under which I sat, I finally stood up, shed my cloak, and stepped into the sun to accept my fate.

I felt the warmth of the rays on my cold skin as I stood there, but nothing happened. There was no pain, no burning sensation, no smell of smoldering flesh.

I opened my eyes, which were instantly drawn to my hands. They glistened in the sunlight like many white particles of fine sand crystals, and I understood that this was why vampires avoided the sunlight. It was not because the sun was toxic to us; it was because our cell structure had become such that we would be noticed as different.

There was more wilderness areas back then than there are now, so in spite of the sun, I continued walking. With my suicide attempt thwarted, I knew I had to come up with another plan.

I walked for hours at a normal human pace, keeping to the trees as much as practical, until finally, over the treetops, I saw the tall gleaming white steeple of a country church. Being of a religious persuasion, I was drawn toward it for comfort. Again, I remembered the legends, this time stating that vampires could not stand the sight or touch of a cross, or any other holy artifact, so I walked toward it, hoping for another chance to end my evil existence.

I stopped when I reached the edge of the tree line, and looked about with caution. Because of my unusual skin, I knew I must not be seen in the sunshine, so I pulled up the hood of my cloak and finally walked across the open ground and entered through the main door.

I paused there, waiting to see if God Himself would strike me down for daring to enter the sanctity of His house, but there was only silence, and I dare say I could feel the love and comfort that only a house of the Lord can offer, even to one such as I.

Ahead of me, I could see the alter and the large cross that was affixed to the wall behind the pulpit, but I felt no fear or anxiety as I observed it. Another myth debunked.

I was uncertain which persuasion this church favored, so I started looking for a container of Holy Water, thinking perhaps it would burn me to death.

Then, a side door opened and the vicar stepped from it. When he saw me, he said in a friendly tone, "Welcome, my child." But as I turned toward him and he saw me fully, I saw sudden horror in his face. He reached into his cassock and withdrew a cross, which he held out toward me at arm's length, and his voice became stern when he said, "Be gone, demon!"

My eyes again, I realized, yet I was horrified by his words. Had I indeed become a demon? I was terribly confused, remembering the shock I had seen on the prostitute's face earlier. What was it about my countenance that frightened them so?

My thirst was growing more and more difficult to tolerate, and there was one terrible moment when my strength faltered and the vicar's life was in mortal danger from me.

"God help me!" I begged, tearing my eyes from him to the cross that was positioned behind the pulpit. "Give me the strength to resist!"

With my focus on this plea to God, I was able to overcome that immediate desire to feed on his blood, but I knew I must leave at once. As I turned, I saw sudden uncertainty on his face. I knew he must have thought me a demon from hell who was perhaps attempting to change my allegiance.

Turning, I fled from the church, and it was then that I discovered my incredible speed. Within two seconds, I was back inside the tree line, and as I glanced over my shoulder I saw the vicar standing in the doorway, looking all about him, for his inferior eyes had been unable to detect which direction I had taken. He must have thought I had simply vanished.

I understood that I must not place myself in situations where I would encounter humans.


	4. Chapter 4

Four

DEJECTION

The encounter with the vicar had left me badly shaken, terrified at how close I had come to losing control, and dismayed and revolted that he had seen me as a demon when I myself knew that could not possibly be true. Except for the increasing thirst, I did not feel all that different, mentally or intellectually, than before. I still knew right from wrong and I was putting up a valiant effort to fight against the urge to feed. Surely that could not possibly be the behavior of a demon. And I knew that my countenance was still that of a human, even if I had ceased to be entirely human in the literal definition. I could not even begin to imagine what he had seen that had frightened him so.

I did not even look back as I left the area. I left the vicar to his own thoughts, interpretations and conclusions as I moved away from the village. The scent of humans was strong, drifting enticingly on the breeze from the village just up the road, and I used my power of speed to get away from there quickly, away from the inviting smells that might cause me to weaken in my resolve.

Once out of range of the village, I slowed down to a more normal speed, but I did not keep to the roads where I might encounter human travelers. Instead, I set out across the beautiful English countryside, easily jumping the many stone fences that marked property boundaries, not caring that my skin was gleaming in the sunshine like I had been sprinkled with diamond dust. Out there, there was no one to see me. I was alone with my thoughts, and I was growing increasingly concerned that I might not have the willpower necessary to restrain myself.

My throat felt terribly constricted in my thirst, but I continued to fight the urge to feed. In spire of my discomfort, I pressed onward until I reached the top of a small rise of ground and saw the placid waters of a large pond beyond. I immediately started down the hill toward it, and when I reached it, I dropped to my knees beside it and leaned over the water to view my reflection.

It was not the perfect mirror effect needed to gain an exact interpretation of my likeness, but my new senses made up for the lack of a proper looking glass, and when I saw my reflection I jerked back in horror. Even in the muted colors of the rippling water, I saw that my eyes had turned blood red.

I remembered the revulsion in the eyes of the vicar and the confusion in the eyes of the prostitute, and I understood then why both of them had thought me a demon from hell. I could not deny that is exactly what I would have thought myself, had I been looking into the face of one such as I. I did not stop at that moment to wonder why the eyes of the creature who had turned me into a vampire was black instead of red, but I would wonder about it later. At that moment, I cared only for my own transformation. At first, there was a sense of denial, and I wondered: How could this be? Perhaps I had been mistaken. Perhaps there was something in the water that had provided the illusion, so I leaned over the water again and studied my image more carefully.

There was no doubt, this time. My eyes were definitely red, and once I had gotten past the shock of that, I studied my face in more detail. Without vanity, I knew that my human self had been considered attractive, but now the definitions of my countenance were even sharper, more defined than ever before. Out of curiosity, I pulled back my lips to reveal my teeth.

There were no fangs to mark me as a vampire, but I cannot say that this surprised me. I was uncertain exactly what I had been expecting, but the reality was that there was no Hollywood to twist the legends and myths into creatures that could miraculously grow fangs when they needed them. Obviously, in reality, fangs were not a necessary part of the package. I could feel that my teeth were very sharp and very strong, certainly strong enough to obtain the nourishment that I was denying myself, for the water that I was gazing into was not the drink I needed or craved.

Repulsed, I threw myself back from the edge of the pond again, and I sat there on the sloping bank for a long time, trying to come to terms with the physical changes that had turned me from a man to a monster. I thought of my father as well, and I was grateful that I had had the good sense not to go to him after my turning. My red eyes would have terrified him, possibly even to the point of bringing about his untimely death, and I understood that neither he nor the vampire hunters would have been able to destroy me. I was certain they would have tried, but in all likelihood, it would have been me destroying them against my will, and that was something I could not bear.

The sun crossed its zenith and my shadow on the ground grew longer as it sank toward the western horizon, and while I sat there thinking, I found myself turning over in my mind all the various methods I had ever heard of for destroying vampires. One of the favorites of legend was pinning the vampire into its coffin by driving a stake through its heart, which seemed outrageously absurd at that point. A stake applied to my chest would shatter without causing me any harm, and I had no coffin to return to. Even if I did, there was no need to return to it during the day, for I had no need of sleep and the daylight was harmless to me.

Obviously I could not drown myself in the pond before me, for I had no need of air, which meant I could hold my breath indefinitely. I felt very discouraged, for it seemed that I was doomed to wander the earth forever in solitude. I could think of nothing worse than that. In my human life, I'd had friends and family. I'd attended church each Sunday, and local socials for entertainment. Always, there were others around to talk to. But in the early days of my new life, there was no one, and that loneliness was difficult to endure.

I knew it was my imagination, but the sun seemed to mock me as it slipped over the horizon. The moon came up, surrounded by a host of stars, and with it came the frogs and toads, gathering at the water's edge to call for a mate. I watched them with my freakish red eyes that saw almost as well as if it had been daylight, and I envied the simplicity of their lives.

I continued to sit there throughout the night. Sometimes I heard the splash of a fish jumping for a night insect at the water's surface, and I could see the ripples on the surface, but mostly I heard only the croaking and trilling of the amphibians as I sat there and thought about how everything had changed

The reality was heavy upon my silent heart: I could never go home. I would never see my father again. I would never see my friends again. The life I had envisioned for myself was no longer within reach.

It was early dawn when I caught a scent drifting on the breeze, so strong and so appealing that it startled me out of my reverie. Humans were approaching; two of them.

I turned automatically in that direction and saw them coming over the knoll, fishing poles in hand, conversing happily to one another. They were young boys, no more than 13 years of age, brothers, perhaps, or just good friends meeting for some leisure time before the start of their chores. It was too dangerous for them to be near me, so in the blink of an eye, I rushed to the nearest tree.

One of the boys came to an abrupt stop, and I could see the uncertainty on his face as he stared at the empty spot where I had been sitting. He must have glimpsed me sitting there one instant, and the next instant I was gone.

The other boy stopped as well, puzzling over his friend's behavior. "Is something wrong?" I heard him ask.

With his brow furrowed, the first boy replied, "I'm not sure. I thought I saw . . . "

"What?" the other asked.

He shrugged, then, apparently thinking himself foolish; that he had been mistaken. "Nothing."

He continued to look around warily as they started down the slope toward the pond, and I knew he was still uneasy about what he had thought he had seen.

He started to relax more when they reached the pond, and from my hiding place behind the tree, I watched as they sat down and baited their hooks, remembering the days of my own youth, when I had fished with my friends. My father had been a very strict parent who governed my childhood activities with an iron fist. In that day and age, it was a struggle for humans to feed their families, and there was little time for leisure. Mostly, my spare time was spent working in the garden or caring for the livestock, but fishing was considered a productive activity for boys, for it put food on the table.

As I watched them, my wistful nostalgia was quickly overpowered by the venom that was flowing again in response to the nearness of the two boys.

It was now close to 48 hours since the turning process had been completed and I had become a vampire, and I had, as yet, not fed. I had no idea how unusual that was, nor did I know that newborn vampires usually went feral if not guided and controlled by an older vampire. There was no one to tell me these things, and it was at that point that I wished I had spoken to the one I had seen near the Thames. His manner of dress made me think that he was walking among the humans as one of them, and I remembered his amused smile, indicating that he had known I was newly turned. Perhaps he could have informed me of the proper ways to dispose of one such as I.

My instincts were growing stronger, and I looked around the area, gauging the proximity of the nearest settlement. There was no one else in sight, but I knew there must be a town or a farmhouse within human walking distance. In my intense thirst, I confess the thought crossed my mind that I could safely feed on those two boys. Safely for me, that is, for that first fleeting thought was followed by one more guilty -- that if I fed on them, I must either kill them or else they would suffer the same fate as I, neither of which was acceptable.

I was instantly disgusted with myself, that I could view these two humans, these two innocent boys, as I might have viewed a delectable steak in my human life.

Once again, I took flight and fled the temptation that was becoming almost more than I could tolerate. I was over the hill and in the next meadow before either of them could register the mild breeze my passing must have generated. All that mattered to me was that I was upwind of them, where I could no longer smell their inviting scent.

I kept moving at this point, wandering aimlessly around the countryside, not really know what it was that I was looking for. Where do you go when you have no place to go? Time meant nothing to one such as I, cursed with the plight of the undead and eternal life, so I did not bother to travel quickly.

Using my heightened senses, I was able to detect human scents on the breeze, so I carefully avoided populated areas, circling around any town or village that I came near. Many times, I altered my course if I saw a man working his crops in the field I was walking past, removing myself from the temptation. But in doing so, I realized that I was also keeping myself away from my own kind, for I knew that some of the more populated areas might harbor one or more vampires, those who could answer the many questions that were coming to mind. But I could not risk being near humans.

Mostly, I stayed to the wilderness areas. There were more of those back then than there are now, and I saw many areas that I had not known even existed. I had lived my entire life in London, with few excursions outside the city, so imagine my astonishment when my travels lead me to Stonehenge.

It was not quite as it is now, with modern restoration, fences to keep visitors back, and roads running past. Back then, the stones that had fallen over the centuries had not yet been returned to their proper position, but it was still a remarkable sight. I walked around the stones, fascinated, trying to imagine who had built it and how it had been done, mysteries which have survived to this day. Historians have theories, of course, but they had not been there, so do they really know without a doubt?

I touched the stones with my hands, knowing that some ancient race or culture had placed each one in some specific symmetrical arrangement that had a meaning unique to them, and I marveled at human ingenuity. I even jumped on top of the highest one and viewed the surrounding plains with my superior eyes. From that high vantage point, I also tested the breeze that drifted along the plains, detecting the faint scent of humans from some nearby town, but none had been to the monument recently.

As I lowered my gaze to jump back to the ground, an idea started to form. The height from the top of the standing stones was not sufficient to cause damage to my strong body, but I started to wonder, if I could find a cliff high enough, would it be adequate?

There are many tors and hills in England, but not that many high cliffs, not to the degree of what you might find at the Grand Canyon or in Yellowstone, places I didn't even know existed back then. The only place I could think of with high cliffs was the coast. So I shifted my direction toward the south, and started walking again.

I could have run, but I did not, for I was starting to have the "lamb to slaughter" mentality, knowing what I was going to do. I was not wavering in my resolve to end my existence, but I wanted to see as much as I could before that happened. So I moved at a normal pace, walking through the day and through the night, taking in the beautify of the English landscape as I went, absorbing it as any condemned man would do. Until, at last, I reached the high cliffs overlooking the southern coast.


	5. Chapter 5

Five

ACCEPTANCE

The wind was strong there on the precipice of that high cliff overlooking the pristine water of the English Channel. It whipped my hair and my cloak every which way as I stood on the very edge, like a marble statue, anticipating that here, in this beautiful place, I would at last find the peace I was seeking.

The view was spectacular with the choppy blue-gray water glistening in the sunshine, and I stood there for a long time, mesmerized, just looking out across the sea toward France. I could not see it, of course; it was too distant, even for my superior eyes, but I could imagine it, that exotic foreign land I had never seen. And beyond France lay Italy, where I would eventually find my answers.

But in those days, I had no knowledge of the Volturi, or else I might have crossed the Channel right then and there! Instead, I reflected on my past life as I faced what I believed was certain death. I have always had a rather romantic mind, I suppose, and as such I had often dreamed of visiting other countries, perhaps even advancing my education, but even when I was human, I had assumed such things were unattainable. Life as an Anglican minister was not a profitable one, and as an only child, my father had needed me. Those dreams were even more unattainable now, when I would be singled out as something to be feared and avoided should I inadvertently step out into the sunshine.

That was all moot at this point. I was now dead to my father, so he would have to get by without me, yet it never occurred to me that there were still opportunities open to me, prospects that would stimulate me intellectually and allow me to retain my humanity. But I was unaware of all this as I stood on the edge of that windy cliff, and I cursed the vampire who had effectively murdered the man who had been Carlisle Cullen.

I was in a desolate area, far from human habitation and unconcerned about being seen, so I waited there on the rim until low tide exposed the rocky shelf at the foot of the cliff. There were a lot of large boulders there, and I looked at them with specific interest, calculating their usefulness in ending my existence. One in particular caught my attention, a large oddly shaped boulder with a somewhat scalloped upper edge. Surely no one, not even a reluctant vampire, who landed on such an object could possibly survive.

I adjusted my location on the cliff accordingly, positioning myself directly above that boulder, and then, with solid determination, I jumped out into the open air and felt myself falling. The wind generated by my rapid descent was strong, and within seconds, my cloak was wrenched from neck, but I did not care. Where I expected to be going, I would have no need of it. At this stage in my vampire life, it was only a fashion statement anyway, for I was indifferent to cold.

Despite the distance, the fall was amazingly short in duration, for gravity pulled me down at a high rate of speed, but I managed to twist my body so that I would land horizontal across the boulder I had selected. With its size and shape, I anticipated a broken neck or broken back, either of which should have been fatal. My body would then be claimed by the sea when high tide rolled over the boulders again. That was as good an end as I could hope to have.

The sound when I landed was reminiscent of a thunderclap, which echoed against the cliff face and across the open water, and which must have been heard for some distance. It only took a few seconds to realize why. As I lay there, totally unharmed, I saw that I was lying between the two broken halves of the boulder, which had been far more destructible than I, for it had been cracked into two pieces by my much stronger body.

As I lay there looking up at the sky, my cloak fluttered rather humorously to the ground, settling onto the rocks far more gently than I had done. This was quite a revelation for me, for it exemplified just how durable the body of a vampire truly is. One item at a time, I was learning about the creature I had become.

As far as I know, that boulder is still there, its sharp edges most likely worn and smoothed by centuries of erosion from the pounding surf and the ebbing and flowing of the tides. I've often wondered if scientists have found it, wondering what colossal event could have been powerful enough to break it in half. It is amusing to look back on, but at the time, I found no humor in my situation, and I could only wonder: how the hell do you kill a vampire?

I cannot even express how disappointed I was. At this point, I was at a total loss of what to do next. All alone, with nowhere to go, no one to talk to, and facing an eternity of isolation, I felt like I was enduring a living hell with no end to the torment. I had done nothing worthy of such anguish.

There was no reason to remain there, so I stood up and collected my cloak, then walked along the base of the cliff for a while, presuming I had gotten myself into a bit of a jam. Getting down had been astonishingly easy, but I was still thinking in human terms with human limitations, and I assumed it would be impossible to climb back up to the top.

As I walked along the narrow shingle of wet sand and pebbles, the tide started to turn, and with every step the water rolled farther up the coastline. Before long, I knew I would be wading. You would laugh at the manner of dress we wore back then. Typical attire for men was stockings and square toed shoes, which were typically decorated with ribbons and bows, or breeches and knee high riding boots. I had worn both during my human life, but at the time of my turning, I was dressed in breeches and boots, for I had ridden my father's horse to the church that night of the hunt. Although I would have been perfectly comfortable barefoot, it was simply not an era when that was done. Only children of poor people went barefoot. And since I did not wish to ruin my leather boots by getting them wet, I finally decided to try climbing the cliff.

Standing at the foot of the cliff face, I tilted my head back and looked up at the nearly sheer stone wall toward the distant summit. As a human, I never would have attempted such a thing, but as a vampire I knew it would not harm me if I lost my handhold and fell. Not that I had any objection to that, were it possible, but I had nothing to lose in such an effort. So I began to climb.

I scaled the face of the sea cliff with an ease and speed that I could never have expected, and for the first time, I actually allowed a tiny bit of consideration into my mind that being a vampire might actually have its occasional advantages.

That is not to say that I was fully happy with my situation, for I was still facing a lonely existence, but I think I was starting to feel some acceptance at this point. Rather, it seemed that since I could not change my situation, I might as well make the best of it.

When I reached the top, near the spot where I had jumped only a short time before, I made the decision that I would go west, onto the moors. The land there, with its unfriendly environment and unpredictable weather patterns, was less hospitable to human habitation, which in turn would make it easier for me to avoid human contact.

Because of my speed, I arrived at Dartmoor that same day. That area is a national park now, more than 350 square miles of wild moorland. Today, people hike and camp there, but back then that area was considered, for the most part, a useless wasteland. There are many peat bogs, marshes, and dangerous mires which make agricultural endeavors useless, so aside from seldom used roads that crossed it, the moor was very desolate and, with its many legends, the perfect place for a vampire.

Throughout history, there have always been myths and legends surrounding Dartmoor, and most of the other English moors I would imagine. It served as the inspiration for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's marvelous classic _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, possibly due to one particular legend that speaks of a large black dog that roams the moor.

The dog, or course, was probably a werewolf, but I never encountered it while I was there, and in fact, did not even know about it at the time. Occasionally, I detected a scent on the breeze, a peculiar "wet dog" smell not unlike that of our Quileute shape-shifting friends, but I did not go in search of it, nor did it seek me out. I did hear its mournful howls on occasion, but It remained hidden in the wilderness. I have wondered if we were perhaps kindred spirits, living out our miserable lives in solitude to avoid harming humans. I suppose I'll never know.

It goes without saying that Dartmoor was a mysterious and awe-inspiring place, even to a newly turned vampire, and I moved about within it for days, seeing the many points of interest. There are a number of stone crosses on the moor that I found particularly intriguing, believed to be navigation aides, and even an ancient tomb of some long dead hunter from the 11th century. I was like an undead tourist, and it helped keep my mind off my aloneness.

But all the while, my thirst was growing to the point of being unbearable, and I felt myself growing weaker. I began to wonder if it was possible for a vampire to starve itself to death. It turned out there was no need for that, even if it was possible, for it was there on the moor that I would find my salvation.

I traveled extensively throughout the area, covering every foot of land within the boundaries of the present day park, plus much of the wilderness area outside it, only rarely encountering humans. Once I saw a coach crossing the moor, bound for some destination on the other side. I watched it from a nearby tor, unseen by them, noticing the fine hats and clothing of the well-heeled travelers inside it.

Another time, near the very edge of the moor, I saw a small group of men on horseback with muskets and hounds, clearly hunters. I did not know what they were hunting, whether it was wildlife or perhaps the werewolf, but I was careful to maintain my distance from them, far enough away that I could not pick up their scent and the dogs could not detect mine. When they moved away from my hiding place, I did not follow.

One evening, I was seated among the outcroppings of boulders that surrounded many of the tors, when I detected a scent that I had noticed a few times on the moorland, but always before, it was faint, as the creature that had left it had long since moved on. This time, it was fresh, growing stronger, indicating that it was approaching my hiding place.

Curiously, I waited, keeping myself concealed, knowing that whatever it was would soon show itself. It was not long before a herd of red deer approached the tor.

They were magnificent creatures, mostly hinds but also a few stags with huge racks of antlers. They were casually grazing and browsing, nibbling on the short grasses. Their slow progression was bringing them closer to the place where I watched.

They were beautiful animals, graceful on their long slender legs and tiny cloven hooves, but I barely noticed. They were near enough that I could smell the blood that flowed beneath their red-brown hides, a scent that was driving me mad with need. I crouched, prepared to spring, even though at the time I did not even realize that I had become a predator, waiting for his prey to move closer.

The hind nearest me suddenly raised her beautiful head, her ears flicking nervously, and I sensed her unease. Her instincts must have been telling her that danger was nearby, but she could not locate the source.

When I saw the muscles flex beneath her hide, knowing she was about to break and flee, I was on her before I even realized what I was doing.

As I wrenched her to the ground, the other deer scattered, of course, and fled in panic, but it did not matter. I would easily be able to track them, if necessary.

I fed ravenously on the hind, her warm blood filling that empty space in me and I could feel my strength returning. With my thirst satisfied at last, I knew that this was the solution to my problem. As a human, we had raised livestock as food for our consumption, we had hunted for venison, so I likened it to that.

At this point, I felt a strange sort of peace, for I now had an alternative, something I could live with. Animals, not humans, would be my source of nourishment, and I wondered if that meant I might be able to exist in the company of humans. It would be dangerous, I knew. I would have to explore that option carefully, over time, and removing myself immediately from any situation that became dangerous for me or for others.

But for the first time since I had become a vampire, I began to have hope that maybe my life would not be an eternity of torment.


	6. Chapter 6

It's been a while since I last posted, but the holidays took too much time to write. There will be one final chapter after this to wrap things up. Thanks for reading and thanks to those who reviewed.

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Six

First Encounter

The relief I felt at my discovery was unimaginable. It had not occurred to me prior to that incident that animal blood could sustain a vampire as surely as human blood. Throughout my human life, we had raised livestock for food and hunted game, so this revelation made my . . . affliction much more tolerable. It was as if a huge burden had been lifted from me, and I no longer felt pressured to end my life. I must say, though, I did hate leaving the drained carcasses behind. Still do, in fact. In my day and age, and especially being the son of a minister, waste was a shameful thing, and I could not help but think of the humans who could benefit from the animals I caught. It surprised me that those thoughts and sentiments that had been drilled into me by my father since birth remained a part of my new life, but I soon realized that the local wildlife was not allowing the meat to go to waste. There were predators and scavengers who were feeding on my 'left-overs'.

The deer herds were plentiful back then, but I knew that with my newborn thirst, I risked depleting the their numbers if I remained indefinitely within the boundaries of this one location, so to give the red deer's population a chance to recover from my hunting and hoping to expand my dietary requirements, I left the home I had found at Dartmoor and traveled north to Exmoor, another stretch of moorland, also a national park now, but in those days it was a Royal forest and hunting ground, so I had hopes that I might find other animals there. Unfortunately for me, while game was plentiful, it was primarily the same species of red deer I had seen in Dartmoor. There were a few roe deer in the wooded areas, but the flavor was similar, and I craved something besides venison.

it was with a certain amount of guilt that I varied my diet by taking an occasional sheep, steer, or goat that was allowed to graze in the wild areas of the moor by the local farmers. The grazing rights on the moors are not unlike the open range in Wyoming and Nevada. The livestock was owned by farmers who earned their living from their herds, so I was careful to take only animals from very large herds. Large herds suggested wealth, and I figured they could best afford the occasional loss. Still, I confess to my feeling of regret, for it is the wealthy that employ and pay salaries to those who work for them. The greater their wealth, the more people they hire and provide livings to, so taking from them felt like a double edged sword in my attempts to avoid harming humans. I was careful to limit the numbers I took and spaced them out in the hopes that I would have no impact on human employment.

In any case, I had to be very careful when dealing with livestock. I could not allow the remains to be found, lest the farmers think a wild beast had done the deed and come looking for it. I had to remove them far from the area, so that the owner thought he had merely miscounted his herd. I never took the prized bull or any quality animal that I thought would be noticed in its absence.

In its way, Exmoor is as beautiful and wild as Dartmoor, but its topography includes a portion of coastline on its northern edge at the Bristol Channel. I spent a great deal of my time on the hills and cliffs overlooking the sea, watching the tides and the ships in the distance as they moved toward Cardiff and Bristol, often loaded with cargo from other lands. I tried to entertain myself by attempting to guess the cargo. Lame, I admit, but with nothing to fill my hours, I sought whatever I could to pass the time. If the ship was near enough and the wind was just right, I could smell things like spices and textiles, livestock and passengers. But mostly, I just stood or sat on the rocks and admired the breathtaking beauty of the coastal region. I had been so preoccupied with thoughts of suicide when I had jumped off the cliff at the English Channel that I had failed to notice just how beautiful the sea was.

As time passed, I felt myself changing. Just subtle shifts in my physical and mental self that a human under comparable circumstances would not have noticed. I felt more calm, and I began to notice that it was becoming less of a struggle to force myself into retreat when I detected the fragrance of humans. Prudently, I still avoided them, but I no longer felt that overpowering sense of urgency to leave the area before I did something terrible. I was learning control, and I hoped that would allow me to eventually live closer to humans. Total aloneness is never a good thing, and I facing an eternity of it.

I still had found no sign of other vampires on either of the moors, and that surprised me somewhat, for the climate was generally cloudy and rainy, inhospitable to humans, but very favorable to vampires, since the sun often does not shine there for days. It was only sparsely populated with humans, so clearly that was the reason. It was a sobering reality to grasp that few, if any, vampires held my convictions about the taking of human life, and I knew that to find other vampires of either persuasion, I must return to the city. Not to London, of course. I was very uncomfortable with the idea of going there. It was unlikely that I would encounter any of the people from my father's congregation, but I did not want to dredge up old human memories. And so, when I felt reasonably confident that I could control myself, I fed heavily to reinforce that control, and then made my way into Bristol.

Bristol had been a major port city since the 11th century, but when I visited it for the first time, I was surprised by its size and population. Living in London during my human life, I was accustomed to large cities, but somehow I did not expect that there were other cities would be comparable in size and population.

I entered the city late at night, when I was certain that most of the humans would have retired to their beds. Most of the human accommodations I passed were dark, but occasionally I passed one with the soft glow of a candle visible through the windows. Most windows were closed, due to the superstitions of the day that the night air carried disease.

Obviously the scent of humans was everywhere within the city, and that concerned me. It drifted on the breeze along the streets and permeated the alleys, concentrated especially in places where they lived and worked, so I carefully monitored my physical and mental reaction to it.

The desire was there; I'll not deny that. The aromas were tantalizing, like passing a favored restaurant when you know you cannot go inside. It was almost intoxicating in its wonderful variety of scents, and I actually wondered what they would taste like, even knowing that I would never sample them. It was fair to say that a human diet would be far superior to my animal diet, but I was in control. In fact, I was more disgusted with my desire than I was tempted by it.

Still, I was not going to push my luck by lingering too long in the city, so I hurried through the darkened streets, seeking others who were like me. I had no idea what I would find, but I felt certain that there would be other vampires wherever there was a concentration of humans. It was a challenge to ignore the human scents, but I tried to concentrate on the other scents that drifted alongside that of the humans.

And as I neared what today we would call the "rough side of town", I finally detected an odor I had never smelled before, but one I somehow recognized immediately for what it was.

Anticipating that I would at last get some answers to my questions, I followed the scent into the heart of Bristol's underprivileged neighborhoods, where the scent became stronger. This did not surprise me, and it confirmed my earlier assumption that vampires preyed on those who lived in areas where crimes were the least likely to be reported or investigated.

The smells of poverty is like nothing else in this world, and in those neighborhoods through which I was walking, the aromas were dreadful, like a full frontal assault of unwashed bodies, human waste, and decaying refuse. I even passed several dead animals that had been left in the streets to rot, and lingering in several areas I detected the stench of stale perfume and alcohol that could either have been a pub or a house of ill repute.

Even as a human, I cannot say that I had ever visited the areas of London's poor. Through my father's church, I had helped collect charity items for the very poor, but there were others who had distributed them where they were needed. I was therefore totally unprepared for that unfortunate collection of humans who existed in the slum areas of every city.

It was not only the beggars and low-paid workers who lived there, but also those who were mentally ill or who had various diseases, most of them incurable in those days. I could smell the effects of syphilis, abscesses and boils, measles and pox, influenza, and even cancer, and even though my untrained nose was unfamiliar with them at that time, I was able to discern between them, to tell one from the other. The unclean conditions took a terrible toll on human life, spreading disease and sickness that would have been prevented with proper hygiene and better education.

Repulsed as I was, I felt surprised that they could live in such stench, but I had to remember that my sense of smell was far superior to that of those who lived there, and who were apparently oblivious to the pungent assault that I found terribly repulsive.

When I happened upon a prostitute on a dark street corner who was involved in negotiations with a customer, I noticed that the particular smell I was following was much stronger, and I stopped briefly to locate the correct direction, using my sense of smell and my superior vision. I was getting nearer to my destination.

I kept my distance from them, since I did not want to be close enough that they might notice my eyes, but the woman and her customer did not appreciate the fact that I had stopped so near, apparently thinking I was a curious and perverted bystander. The man made a rude comment that I'll not repeat, but I barely heard him, for I realized at that moment that the couple was in imminent danger; they were being hunted.

There were two of them, very near, and I turned a slow circle, trying to pinpoint their location. They were not in the nearby alley nor were they around the corner, but I knew they were there, nearby, watching.

The man was getting jittery, presumably because I was near enough to overhear their negotiations, and rather than risk losing a customer, the woman suggested they go to her place to talk about it. He was only too glad to get out of there, and they walked around the corner together.

I lingered where I was for several moments, my senses on alert, wondering if the two vampires would follow them, but I did not devote much time to the thought: I went around the corner and followed the two humans, keeping my distance.

I had not gone far when I heard the flapping of a cloak in the breeze, and an instant later a vampire landed lightly and cat-like in front of me in a slightly crouched position. As he rose slowly and gracefully to his full height, I heard the second one land behind me, and I realized that they had been stalking the two humans from the rooftops.

The one in front of me was clearly the leader, and I knew in an instant that he was displeased, for he hissed at me, a drawn-out, menacing sound that generated a similar response from me, a sound I had never made before.

I may have been a young vampire, but I was certainly not a stupid one, and I did not like being sandwiched between two hostile immortals. In a flash, I had sidestepped into the cobbled street so that each of us stood as the point of an invisible triangle, and my eyes darted from one to the other, gauging their intent.

The first thing I noticed was that their eyes were a dark burgundy red, not as brilliant red as mine, but near enough that I knew this unique eye color was a characteristic of our species.

"He's a newborn," said the one who had been behind me, in a matter-of-fact tone. "Look at those crimson eyes!" He did not seem to be mocking my misfortune, but he was very interested in me.

In that casual comment, he had answered another of my questions -- that the eyes of new vampires were bright red. But it did not answer the more rudimentary question of why this strange phenomenon occurred. I had always had a thirst for knowledge, and I wanted to know as much about my condition as possible. Knowledge was power, as the saying goes, and I figured that the more I knew about what I had become, the easier it would be to adjust to it.

"So he is," the first one agreed. Addressing me, he asked, "What are you called, Infant?"

I knew that in vampire terms, I was an infant, but I also knew that the way he said it was intended to be derogatory, and I bristled a bit as I told him my name.

"Well, Carlisle," he said, his voice as smooth as silk, but the underlying tone was very menacing, and I remained wary, tensed to defend myself if necessary. "You have committed a serious infraction, but since you are an infant, we will let it pass this one time with a warning, so long as it is not repeated."

I was shocked, for I could think of no infraction that I had committed.

My expression must have revealed my confusion, for he explained, "The humans you were hunting belonged to us. You must surely have detected our scent, yet you violated what you must surely have known was our territory."

"You misunderstand my intent," I explained. "I had no interest in the two humans, as I have already fed." I neglected to mention, of course, exactly what I had fed upon. It was clear that these two vampires were territorial, and I had no desire to reveal any more about myself than was necessary.

He regarded me for a long time, weighing my words carefully. He was not impulsive, I'll give him that much, but I did not trust him. One on one, I am certain I could have taken him, even without my newborn strength, but with the other to back him up, I was uncertain how a fight might resolve itself should it come to that, and for that reason I did not want to engage them.

I must have appeared sincere, for he apparently believed me. "What is it you want, then, Infant?" he asked. The corners of his mouth turned up, as if amused that a vampire would have other priorities than hunting humans.

I wondered why he had asked for my name if he wasn't going to use it, but I made no mention of that. I did not wish to antagonize them. "I was only seeking out others of my kind. You see, I've been completely alone ever since I was turned, and I have questions."

The leader exchanged a glance with his companion, and the amusement drained from his face. "What of the one who made you?" he interrupted.

"He ran off, and I never got a chance to speak to him. I never even know who he was."

His brow puckered in a disapproving frown. "He fed on you without killing you, and then left you on your own?"

I nodded. "Yes."

The vampire observed me for a long time, again seeming to weigh me and my intent. "Well," he said at last. "He should have kept you under his control while you went through the transitional period, but you seem to have done well on your own, so I commend you for that. However, you are not our responsibility, and Billings and I are not looking to increase the size of our coven. We might have considered you had you been female," he added with a leer, "but we have no need of another male."

I had no interest in joining his coven, but I did not voice the fact that he and his companion made me very uncomfortable. "Are there others, then, here in Bristol?"

"There is another coven on the other side of the city, a male and his female, but he his very dominant and, trust me, they will be even less accommodating of you than we are, so I would avoid them."

Obviously, I did not trust him, but I believed he spoke the truth. "So vampires generally gather in small groups, rather than existing alone."

"Being alone is what some prefer. Others find like-minded companions, which is what I suggest you do, Infant, but not here. Covens within the cities are kept necessarily small, and we do not invade the territory of other covens. We cannot risk too many humans turning up dead or missing, you understand. There are rules, laws, the most important of which is that we must not call attention to ourselves. That is the number one law of our species, and it is punishable by death."

"So it is possible to kill a vampire?" I asked with surprise, recalling all those failed attempts.

"Death means ripping a vampire apart and burning the pieces. There is no other way."

I nodded slightly, deep in thought. The rules were not a problem. My human memories, gathered during my inferior human years, seemed oddly misty in comparison to my perfect vampire memory, but I did recall memories of growing up in a very strict household. Rules were something I understood completely because my father had a firm belief in them, and to a lesser degree so did I. I like freedom of choice, but rules are necessary to maintain order, so it should not have been such a surprise to learn that there were rules and laws within the vampire community. The idea of a secret community existing within the larger human community would have been unthinkable in my human life, but now I was starting to understand just how complex the vampire society really was.

I also understood that if a rule or law is punishable by death, it can in no way be considered an "honor system". That meant that there was some sort of central government monitoring the behavior of our kind, maintaining order, and dispensing discipline if necessary.

"So there is a hierarchy," I said.

The intensity of my interest was palpable, and I saw the two vampires exchange a quick glance, as if unable to fathom how I could possibly not be aware of that. I thought they both looked uneasy, but they gave affirmative nods.

This was the most important bit of information I could ever have imagined, one I had never anticipated. In my human life, I had assumed that if vampires existed, it was in a more random manner; mindless demons living in sewers and caves. That they had a governing body was astonishing.

"Who are they?" I asked, eagerly.

The two vampires who stood before me must have thought there was something very odd about that question, for they looked at one another again for a long, tense moment before turning back to me.

"We do not speak of them," the first one said, nervously.

"Are they here in England?" I asked.

"No, they are abroad. Trust me, Infant, it is safer to avoid them."

"They only leave their home when a violation has been committed," said the second one, the one called Billings. "Or when they want something." He peered into the darkness as if he expected these enigmatic rules to materialize in the shadows. "I think you should leave now."

"No!" I protested. "I have more questions; things I need to know."

"We have no more answers for you," the first one told me. "We have spent enough time with you. If you still have questions, you must solve them on your own."

I knew he meant it, so I offered no more objections, even though I felt I was just starting to learn the secrets of our species.

"Do not feed within the city," he warned then. "We have an understanding with the other coven that we will not cross territorial boundaries, and they may think we have violated our treaty if you hunt in the city." He took a menacing step toward me as if to reinforce his point. "You are not welcome here, so go."

Then, in a blur of motion, he and his companion were gone, leaving me alone on the street to ponder the few bits of information they had provided. At the time, of course, I did not know that they were speaking of the Volturi, but it was very clear that those two had somehow gotten on their bad side.

I did not doubt their word that I was not welcome there, and I did not linger, nor did I attempt to seek out the other coven. I knew I had learned as much in Bristol as I was going to learn, so I left the city immediately to wander alone again.


	7. Chapter 7

Six

FAMILY

Carlisle stood motionless at the window, so handsome, so statuesque, that he seemed to defy anything that could be considered a natural phenomenon. His golden eyes perused the wet forest that surrounded the house, quietly observing things that humans, with their inferior eyes, could not see.

The storm had moved on, leaving behind a calm, steady rain shower that pattered the windows in a soothing manner, but he did not react to it. Instead, he was deep in thought, presumably recalling those early days of his vampire life, centuries ago.

Renesmee watched him seriously and with less patience than her mother, clearly wondering why he had paused in his story. Tilting her head, she looking up into Bella's face, then back at Carlisle. "Grandpa?" she asked tentatively, wanting to ask the question, but uncertain that she wanted the truthful answer.

He turned, and his gaze came to rest on the beautiful child who looked back at him with a level of interest and compassion far greater than her years.

"What about the two humans? Were they okay?"

"I don't know," he replied, honestly. "I would have been unable to help them, so I did not try to find out." His expression was grim. "I think it is accurate to assume that two humans died that night, if not the original two, then others. I thought about that as I left Bristol, and it troubled me deeply." He sighed heavily with regret. "The nature of our existence dictates that we survive by taking the lives of others, but the fact that so many of our kind regard humans as nothing more than livestock has always bothered me."

"You take too much weight on your shoulders, Carlisle," said a soft voice from the doorway.

Bella turned toward it, surprised that her total concentration on Carlisle's story had prevented her from noticing her husband's presence. With her new powerful senses, it was something that rarely happened these days. Usually, she was aware of him before he even reached the door.

Carlisle, however, had clearly been aware of the addition to his audience, for he showed no surprise at all. He smiled in a way that was almost embarrassed. "I suppose I do," he admitted. "As a doctor, I am able to give back to the human race as much as I can, but I cannot control the actions of the others."

"Yet you do not judge them," Edward said, admiringly. Entering the room fully, he joined his wife on the sofa and draped one arm around her shoulder. Renesmee shifted position so that she was resting against both of her parents. "Even though you disapprove of their lifestyle, you accept them as they are," he concluded.

"Judging them would alienate us from them," Carlisle told him.

"And there may be times when we need them," Bella said softly, her hand going protectively to her daughter as Edward hugged her a little tighter, thinking the same thing.

Carlisle quietly observed Renesmee, the special half human, half vampire child who was unlike anything he had ever seen before, and who charmed everyone she met. "Yes. We've already seen that need, haven't we?" He turned back to the window and gazed out at the wet forest, not in a melancholy way, but a thoughtful one.

Unwilling to let the story end just yet, Renesmee asked, "Did you ever see those two vampires again?"

"No, I never encountered those two again, but if they still exist, I would not be surprised to learn that they are still in Bristol, living in the sewers or abandoned warehouses. They did not strike me as the type to interact with humans except at feeding time."

"So is this the point where you decided to swim across the channel to France?" Bella asked.

"No. That notion had not yet crossed my mind. I still didn't trust myself enough around humans to spend much time in their cities, and I couldn't anyway because of my red eyes, so I began to travel around England and Scotland as a nomad. It is not the life I would ever have chosen for myself, for it is a truly lonely existence, but the two Bristol vampires had given me a great deal to think about in terms of our lives and of these enigmatic leaders that they were so fearful of. Even with so little information about them, I knew they were almost certainly ancient, but I never expected to meet up with them. I maintained a very low profile, feeding primarily on local wildlife in the areas as I passed through. As time passed, I felt myself changing. Just subtle shifts in my physical and mental self that a human under comparable circumstances would not have perceived. Gradually, I began to notice that it was becoming less of a struggle to force myself into retreat when I detected the fragrance of humans. Prudently, I still avoided them, but if I encountered one on the road I no longer felt that overpowering sense of urgency to leave the area before I did something terrible. I was learning control, to go against the things that are natural for vampires."

"I've always admired your willpower," Edward said, softly.

"Well," he said kindly, "I am immune to the smell of human blood now, but back then it was not so easy. It took decades, centuries even, to reach the level of self control that I have now."

"Did you ever find any others like you?" Renesmee asked.

"I occasionally encountered other vampires, little one, but none who shared my beliefs and few that I cared to spend time with. Some were brutal and felt no remorse about the humans they murdered. To the contrary, the reveled in the power they had over the weaker humans. Perhaps they were just as cruel and uncaring in their human lives, and this tendency carried over with them to their vampire lives. And like wild predators, they were territorial and resented my presence near their covens. Not surprisingly, I avoided these types. Not all vampires I encountered were so unfriendly, however. Some were pleasant and willing to answer questions about our kind and what I might expect as time passed and I became more experienced.

"One such coven," he continued, "was in the highlands of Scotland. A lovely place to be," he added. "Graham Macgregor was the leader of his small 'family' which included his wife Fiona and a young female a little younger than I in human years. He owned land and raised crops to sell to the humans in the village for income to pay his taxes and purchase things to make their existence comfortable, and it was this obvious desire to blend in with humans that attracted me to them. They allowed me to stay for several weeks and they helped restore my faith that good exists even among vampires."

"Were they 'vegetarians'?" Edward asked.

"No, I'm sorry to say they were not, and they teased me mercilessly about that, but in a friendly way. Had they shared my beliefs, though, I probably would have accepted their invitation to stay longer, especially since they were very tolerant of what they considered an odd diet. They were helpful in directing me to herds of wild goats and roe deer while I was there."

He paused and made a face that incited laughter from his audience, especially Renesmee, who thought it quite funny to see her grandfather make such a face. "A word of advice," he said. "Stay away from the highland goats. They'll eat anything, and the bitter grasses in the high altitudes tends to flavor their blood in very unpleasant ways."

Edward chuckled. "I'll remember that."

"The thing that surprised me was that Fiona knew as soon as she met me that I did not feed on humans, and when I questioned her about how she knew, she indicated my eyes. Without my knowledge, my eyes had finally turned golden. She told me she had seen such a vampire as I in France, many years before. This intrigued me, and as I viewed my reflection in a mirror, I knew that I could finally interact with humans as one of them. My eyes were a little more golden than was normally seen, but not so different that they would cause me to stand out in a crowd. They would no longer consider me a freak, although I suppose there were plenty of vampires who still think of me in that way."

"Villages were small in those days," Edward said. "Where did the Macgregors feed?"

"They did not hunt in the nearby village, but went over the mountains into the lowlands and the more populated towns. I did not accompany them, using that time instead to hunt for deer and explore the beauty of the Scottish terrain."

"Was the girl pretty?" Bella teased.

"Very," he answered promptly with a smile, "but she and I were not compatible as anything more than friends, although I believe Graham and Fiona would have been delighted if we had gotten together."

"They were not among our guests when we needed witnesses for Renesmee," Bella said.

"They had moved away from the highlands of Scotland. With modern technology and population, the world has become smaller and since we do not age, it has become more difficult to blend in for any length of time. Like us, they relocate periodically. The last I heard, they were somewhere in Russia, but time was limited, so we did not put out too much effort to find them once we had acquired a sufficient number of witnesses to help us."

"That's too bad. They sound very nice."

"They are indeed, and I am certain you will meet them one day. It was difficult to leave them, but I was searching for something meaningful to do with my long life. I wanted to educate myself, and now that I could move freely among humans, I began to spend more and more time with them, visiting the cities and towns, remaining for increasingly longer intervals until I was satisfied that my control was absolute. To this day, against all the odds, I have never taken the life of a human being."

Edward looked away with a guilty expression, and Bella placed her hand comfortingly on his. That terrible time was behind him, and he had rejoined Carlisle's coven ready to commit to their lifestyle. He took her hand and squeezed it lovingly.

"After wandering around Great Britain for few decades, I finally made the decision to swim to France," Carlisle continued. "It was for several reasons that I did this. One was to vary my diet. Deer is satisfactory, but a steady diet of it becomes tedious, and mainland Europe had other large game that I could hunt. The other reason was that I was, as Nessie has mentioned, looking for others like me. I thought surely there must be some who were revolted by the thought of harming humans, but I eventually discovered that such a thing is very, very rare.

"Looking for a way to fill my long life, I first sought employment to earn money, but always at night so that my skin did not betray me, and then I took up studies in the major universities, and eventually settled on my career choice. I would give back to humanity by becoming a doctor. You can't imagine how hard that was at first, being around bleeding humans, mangled by one accident or another. It still amazes me the damage humans can do to themselves and to each other. But against the odds, I overcame every obstacle that came my way."

He fell silent for several moments. "It is odd," he mused. "That feeding on animals seems to make us more civilized. Even the Volturi, as cultured as they are, can be cruel and savage in ways that I could never be."

"It isn't the animals, Carlisle," Bella said softly. "It's you. Your presence. Your influence. You're one of a kind, and you inspire everyone around you."

"It is very kind of you to say that," he told her. "It would be very comforting to think that, but I fear my influence, as you say, did nothing to convert the Volturi, although I certainly made the effort."

"Perhaps not, but they were unable to convert you, either," Edward reminded him. "You always try to see the best in others, but maybe they were never as cultured as they appear."

"Maybe not," Carlisle considered.

"What happened next, Grandpa?" Renesmee urged, her eyes wide with fascination. "Tell us about your life with the Volturi."

"That is another story, little one," he smiled. "One I will tell you when you are older." Lifting her into his arms, he tickled her affectionately, and was rewarded by her shrieks of laughter.

~ the end ~


End file.
